


Run of Shame

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21663883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “Barry, are you drunk?”Barry giggles and presses a hand to his mouth. “Notdrunk,”he says through his fingers. “Just maybe, y’know, a little tipsy?”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 7
Kudos: 228





	Run of Shame

Leonard is accustomed to Barry speeding into the house. After a good day, this often involves Barry speeding into his arms and kissing him. After a bad day, it’s not uncommon for him to come to a dead stop in the entryway, too exhausted to move another step. Never before has it ended with a thump that shakes the house and a giggly Barry staggering away from the wall. 

“Len!” he exclaims. Leonard puts both hands on his waist to steady him and studies his flushed, grinning face. 

“Barry, are you drunk?” 

Barry giggles and presses a hand to his mouth. “Not _drunk,”_ he says through his fingers. “Just maybe, y’know, a little tipsy?” 

“Right.” Leonard guides him to the sofa. He’s able to stay on his feet, although he wobbles a lot and leans heavily on Leonard for support. “I thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

“Nope.” Barry flops down on the sofa, his lips turning down into an entertaining pout. “Can’t. But Caisco and…” Leonard stifles a laugh. Barry tries again. “Cai’lin and Cisco made a thing, and it was get-Barry-drunk-at-work day, and now we have Flash-proof liquor!” He erupts into another bout of giggles. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Flash-proof ‘cause I can’t burn through it, but also proof is how they measure alcohol…”

“I get it, Barry.” Of course his cheerful little Scarlet is a giggly drunk. He only needs to tolerate Barry’s bizarre drunken jokes until he can get him to sleep. “And they didn’t want to keep you until you sobered up?”

“No. Well, yes.” Barry giggles and ducks his head. “Only I asked them not to because all of a sudden I just wanted _you._ And now I’m home and I can see I made a good choice.” His delight melts into the exaggeratedly solemn look of a drunken man trying to focus. “You’re so…so… _imposing.”_

Leonard laughs, as amused by his tone as by his words. “Is that a good thing?”

“Mhmm.” Barry nods solemnly. “You make me feel all melty and safe and good, and your eyes are really bright and your voice is just…mmm.” He shivers and smiles. 

“You like it when I talk?” Leonard teases. He knew that already—Barry is anything but subtle—but the blush spreading to the tips of his ears is too delicious not to encourage. 

“I like it when you tell me I’ve been good.” The faintest hint of a mischievous grin flashes across Barry’s face. “And when I’ve been bad.” 

“Oh, I know that look.” Leonard drops his playful tone. “Time for bed.”

“Bed? With you?” Barry holds up his arms as though he wants to be carried. Leonard bends down to scoop him up, and the next thing he knows, he’s been pulled onto the sofa. Barry settles comfortably in his lap, looking altogether too pleased with himself. 

“Oh, Barry, I’m afraid I have to say no.” He might be a criminal, but he has morals. If he’s going to sleep with his Scarlet, he wants him fully aware and consenting. “What kind of monster would take advantage of a drunk little hero?” 

Barry squirms. Leonard doubts it’s deliberate, but his warm weight is settled in the worst possible place, and the squirming isn’t helping. “What if I want you to take advantage of me?” 

Leonard clenches his fists to avoid resting his hands on Barry’s narrow hips. “That’s why it’s called ‘taking advantage’, Scarlet.” 

“Not if I already want it.” Barry skims his hands up Leonard’s chest and leans in close. The skin on the side of Leonard’s neck starts to tingle in anticipation of a kiss. “And I do. I’ve thought about you all day, your hands and your mouth and your _voice.”_

Leonard draws in a shaky breath. If he had an ounce of good sense, he would scoop Barry up, carry him to bed, and leave him there. Unfortunately, whatever remains of his good sense is being rapidly subsumed by the heat coiling in his belly. 

“I don’t want you to be all honorable.” This time, the slow, steady grind of Barry’s hips is deliberate. Leonard fights down a groan. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“Didn’t figure you for a horny drunk, Scarlet.” It’s his last, feeble attempt to distract them both from doing something they’ll regret. (He’s growing less and less sure Barry will have regrets. He just doesn’t know if he can manage not to feel guilty.) 

Barry keeps rocking his hips and lets out a quiet, breathy moan. The last of Leonard’s self-restraint breaks. There’s no point stopping the kid now that he’s worked himself up. If nothing else, he’s more than willing to let Barry get himself off like this. 

“All right, Scarlet. Give me a kiss.” 

Obediently, Barry kisses him. His hands slip eagerly under Leonard’s shirt. Leonard tries to repay the favor, but Barry catches his wrists. 

“No?” Leonard can’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. Barry giggles. 

“No. I kinda…I wanna put on a show for you.” Without waiting for a reply, he gets to his feet, wobbles slightly, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You want to strip for me?” Leonard can’t deny he likes watching his Scarlet put on a show, but as unsteady as he is, he can only see this ending badly. 

Barry nods. His shirt falls open and he lets it slip slowly down his arms. Leonard reaches out, eager to touch, but Barry backs away. 

“No touching,” he laughs. “Haven’t you ever had a lap dance before?” 

“Shocking as this may seem, Scarlet, I have not.” Leonard crosses his arms over his chest. He’ll obey for as long as he can, but he suspects there will come a point when Barry will be grateful to be touched. “Have you given one before?” 

Barry giggles and flicks open the button on his jeans. “Once, as a joke. I’m not graceful enough to do it for real.”

As though to prove his point, he tries to shimmy out of his jeans without taking his shoes off. He overbalances and would have fallen had Leonard not grabbed him by the hips and pulled him into his lap. Barry settles happily into his new position, his back against Leonard’s chest and his ass snug against Leonard’s cock. 

“I told you no touching,” he says, although he doesn’t sound upset. 

“Forgive me, Scarlet.” Leonard ghosts his lips over the back of Barry’s neck but doesn’t allow himself to kiss. No doubt that, too, would count as touching. “You seemed a little unsteady.”

Barry kicks off his shoes and jeans before getting back to his feet. Leonard expects him to turn back around; he doesn’t expect him to do it so slowly, rocking his hips to an inaudible beat. It gives Leonard plenty of time to look him over and wish anew to touch. 

“Beautiful,” he purrs. 

Barry sinks into his lap, settling his calves to either side of Leonard’s hips. Leonard wants to skim his hands up Barry’s pale, strong thighs, cradle his hips, and coax him to move. Since he hasn’t been given permission, he lets his hands drop to his sides, palms up. Barry smiles encouragingly and grinds down against him, the heat of his skin noticeable even through several layers of fabric. 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he warns. “Keep your hands by your sides.”

With an effort, Leonard does. Barry kisses deep and thorough, rocking his hips in time to ebb and flow of the kiss. To give him a little taste of the way he’s teasing, Leonard licks into his mouth. Barry whines and squirms, trying to change the rhythm, but Leonard refuses to hurry. It’s his turn to tease. 

Kissing turns into sucking bruises into Barry’s neck. Leonard never lays a hand on him, however badly he wants to. By the time the third bruise is blooming at the hinge of Barry’s jaw, the kid has forgotten about the game. He’s grinding helplessly against Leonard’s belly, barely able to find the words to beg. 

“Look at you.” Leonard sounds almost as wrecked as Barry looks. His voice makes Barry moan and grind his ass back against Leonard’s cock. Leonard’s moan sticks in his throat, and he has to clear it before he’s able to speak again. “You’re just working yourself up, Scarlet. The more you try to make it good for me, the hotter you get for it.”

Barry presses his face into the curve of Leonard’s neck. He’s ashamed, always so ashamed of himself for how easy he is. Leonard kisses the top of his head and, for once, feeds that shame. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you, Scarlet? Couldn’t even wait for me to take you to bed. No patience, no skill, just rubbing against me like a schoolboy.”

Barry mewls. His teeth sink into Leonard’s neck, not to leave a mark but to quiet himself down. Leonard fights down a groan.

“Do you know what happens to horny little boys?” He skims his hands up Barry’s trembling thighs and hooks his fingers in the waistband of his briefs. Barry sobs when he pulls the elastic down to expose his cock and balls. “They get spanked.” 

Barry pushes his ass back against Leonard’s cock, presenting himself for a spanking. His shocked gasp when Leonard smacks his fingers against the underside of his cock sends a jolt of heat up Leonard’s spine.

“You like that, don’t you?” He gives Barry’s cock another gentle spank. Barry hitches his hips into it, desperate for friction. “You’re going to come just like this, Barry. Just from me spanking your cute little cock. You’re going to come for me _now.”_

Barry sobs into Leonard’s neck. He doesn’t vibrate as he sometimes does, but he shakes through his orgasm and muffles his cries in Leonard’s neck. Leonard grinds up into his ass, his rhythm stuttering until he comes too. He buries his face in Barry’s hair and clutches him close while the aftershocks fade. 

“Better, Scarlet?” 

Barry mumbles something that sounds vaguely like “Thank you.” Leonard kisses the top of his head, scoops him up, and carries him to bed. He’s asleep by the time his head hits the pillow.

***

The next morning, Leonard wakes to an empty bed. He follows soft, miserable groans to the bathroom, where Barry is knelt in front of the toilet.

“So,” he drawls. “Flash-proof alcohol gives you a hero-sized hangover?”

“Oh no, please less talking.” Barry scrunches his eyes closed. Leonard fights down a laugh. 

“How much of last night do you remember? Judging by your misery, I would guess not much.” He’s found—mostly through Mick—that the severity of the hangover is has a strong negative correlation with memory of the previous night. 

“Most of it.” Barry rests his head against his forearm. “If you’re asking about the lap dance, yes, I remember. And for the record, I’d do it again.” 

Leonard raises his eyebrows. “Unexpected, Scarlet, but all right. I’m going to bring you a glass of water, and you’re going to drink the entire thing.”

“Mhmm,” Barry mumbles. As promised, he drinks the water in a few greedy gulps. When Leonard praises him for it, he whimpers and hangs his head. “Don’t use the sexy voice when I’m hungover.” 

“That wasn’t my intention.” Leonard stifles a laugh. “And you did bring this on yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Barry holds up his arms and makes his most exaggerated pleading face. “Please take care of me anyway?”

Leonard heaves his most melodramatic sigh and scoops Barry into his arms. “You know I can never say no to that face. Come on, Scarlet. I’ll take care of you.”


End file.
